I guess I am pretty much through the forest now - loads of follow-up appointments in prospect, a very itchy set of scars (one worthy of a story-book pirate in length if not location) and restricted mobility for a while - but the forest itself is done.

In retrospect the forest metaphor was quite a good one.  Approaching the forest it loomed large and dark, a kind of uniform greenness and shadow.  Once I stepped into it, I began to see that it was far from uniform.  A few steps along the path and I began to hear the sounds of the forest - twittering birds, the wind in the trees and so on.  Looking around I saw the shapes of the trees, the tangle of roots, the gnarled branches and tender saplings.  Here and there tiny flowers peeked through the moss and grass and ivy clung tenaciously to the trunks of ancient trees.  Now and again the sunlight would penetrate the canopy sending shards of lights across the ferny floor.  Here a squirrel dashed across the path and up a tree; there a slug slithered towards a cool, dank stone.

You can only really see a forest from the inside.  The ruts in the paths, the dead ends, the fallen trees, the flora and fauna - these cannot be shown on a map nor can they be anticpated as the forest looms ahead on the road.

Forests can be dangerous - who can be sure what lurks in the shadows or round the next bend.  But you can't know unless you take the first step and enter the forest.

As I look back, was I daft to be apprehensive?  I don't think so, because the forest was unknown and could have been a very treacherous place.  So am I glad I went through it?  Yes, of course I am.  I am temporarily debilitated and permanently altered but the walk was essential in my quest for restored health.  Beyond the essential nature of the walk through the forest, it was one where I met some amazing people and had some special moments.  I am more tired by it than I could have imagined, but I have also gained more than I could have anticipated.